


And What Does Sin Taste Like?

by verum_et_mendacium



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Anal Sex, Fantastical Au, M/M, Mild Gore, bottom!minho, but not the wizards and talking cats kind, dark and fluffy, the kids are alright but definately not human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5151116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verum_et_mendacium/pseuds/verum_et_mendacium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas and Minho enjoy an after meal workout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And What Does Sin Taste Like?

Thomas can taste the sweet tang of blood as he licks, kisses, and bites down Minho’s stomach. He’s covered in it. They’re both covered in it and Thomas can still feel the pleasant warmth from their meal. Humans have a terrible sense of danger.

Minho arches up with a cut off moan as Thomas drags his tongue up the base of his cock to the tip and dips his tongue in the slit there. “Fuck. Thomas. You’re killing me.”

“I always promised to give you a sweet death.” Thomas replies smiling even though they both know that will never happen. There are very few beings in this world that aren’t fair game for their appetites and each other is one of them. Thomas sinks his mouth down slowly engulfing Minho’s cock while Minho’s thighs tremble by his ears and his hands tangle in Thomas’s hair. He’s only ever this sensitive right after a kill and it’s one of Thomas’s most favorite things; to see Minho boneless, eyes bliss blitzed, and still zinging with left over blood lust. Even if he wasn’t almost always starving, aching for a hunt, for a kill, for tearing into flesh and gulping it down to satisfy a pit in his stomach that seems like it’ll never be filled, Thomas thinks he’d still kill just to see Minho’s eyes gleaming like obsidian rock with a smile too bright and lighthearted for what they’re doing. But he’ll leave the morality to the humans, they enjoy so much to deny themselves.

When Thomas moves back up, because Minho’s too impatient to let him play for long, too close to let Thomas press and play with that spot inside him that makes him scream, makes him beg for it until he comes just from Thomas’s fingers (it’s ok Thomas will do that next time), he gives one last nudge to Minho’s prostate and pulls his fingers out to glide over thighs, and butt, and waist until Minho tugs his head forward and crushes their lips together. He can taste the last part of the man Minho ate as he licks into Minho's mouth; the lungs. (He says he can taste air like the sky on the tip of his tongue when they’re fresh enough. Personally Thomas prefers the heart, Gally likes to joke it’s because he’s missing one. Brenda always takes the hands, says it makes her feel closer to them. Theresa and Rachel have first dibs on the brains; enjoy the sweeping feeling of the person’s memories moving through their own minds like clouds (They become the story tellers, sharing the play they’ve seen if the person’s life was interesting enough.) Nothing’s stranger than Newt’s fascination with eyes (that he pops like a snack sometimes) but Thomas figures everyone has their thing.) 

Thomas pulls back and brushes his lips along Minho’s jaw. “What do you want Min? If you don’t tell me I won’t know.”

Minho groans; bucks his hips for friction. “ Yes you will. Come on Thomas.”

Thomas just lets out an amused hum as he grinds his hips down onto Minho’s.

“Argh fine.” Minho holds Thomas’s face in his hands staring straight into his eyes, his own heavy lidded with pupils blown. “Please fuck me. I want you to put your dick in me. I want to feel it throbbing as you come inside me and fill me up. Please.” says it like an order as much as a plea.

As if Thomas could say no.

He inches in until he bottoms out and they’re both panting from the pressure. Thomas thinks he could melt from the heat. He bites Minho’s ear. “God Min you’re so hot. Hot and tight and mine. All mine.” He rolls his hips. "Can you feel me?“ And Minho gasps, his head falling back.

Thomas fucks him slow, knows Minho likes to feel the length of him, the drag of him. Minho clutches at his shoulder blades raking his nails down Thomas’s back making Thomas groan and fuck him harder, but not faster.

Minho can’t get enough air in his lungs. Thinks it’s incinerating in the atmosphere. That must be why he’s gasping so hard he can’t even form the words to beg Thomas to go faster. He reaches down to take hold of his dick, but only gets seconds of added pleasure before Thomas grabs his hand and proceeds to pin both of his hands by his head. ” No. Just me. You’re going to come just from the feel of me inside you.“

Minho makes a whine he won’t admit to in the morning and starts to roll his hips. "You…nngh…think you’re all…hah.. that. Don’t you?”

Thomas smirks against the place where Minho’s neck meets shoulder, where he begins to suck bruises into the skin (because he can’t eat every person who thinks Minho’s available as hungry as they are their entire group wouldn’t have enough room for that (especially with how many Newt and Sonya kill. Alby and Harriet should really invest in portable ‘I’m taken’ signs, with flashing lights.).) “I know I am. You wouldn’t settle for any less.” 

Minho’s laugh gets cut off as Thomas speeds up just a bit. Just enough to make Minho push his hips back harder. Just enough to make him beg. The only sound is the smacking of flesh against flesh and Minho crying his name like a chant; like a prayer. “Thomas. Thomas. Thomas.”

Thomas entwines his fingers with Minho and quickens his pace even more until there’s nothing but this moment, this motion, this need. 

“Thomas…I…I’m.” Minho grips him like a vice as his seed paints their stomachs, mouth open in a silent scream. He can feel Thomas pulsing inside him, hips never stopping as he reaches his pinnacle.

Thomas thinks he could die happy in this heat (so hot they’re burning, radiating it from their pores like so much bright flame) and when Minho arcs his back like a bow and comes again from the jets of Thomas’s seed hitting just right inside him (searing and god so good, better than anyone he’s ever eaten, any soul he’s ever tasted) Thomas would close his eyes and see nothing but white if not for the fact he could not bare to miss this sight, this show Minho gives only to him. Instead he commits it to memory and sinks his teeth into the juncture of Minho’s neck and shoulder and revels in the hot tart taste of Minho’s blood.

Later as they drift to sleep surrounded by the ever dancing galaxies Aris painted across their walls and ceiling as a Christmas present Thomas considers his next meal. Frypan’s pancakes for breakfast. Even demons can appreciate the wonders of human cooking. And if he adds a bit of blood to the mix, or if sometimes the sausages Winston prepares aren’t just cow…well, that’s their business.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to tag this as cannibalism because one-not to give it away before anyone has even read one bit of the story and two-because the guys and gals aren't actually human the word doesn't really stand(as it's defined). But if anyone has a problem with this and thinks it should be tagged anyway please tell me and I'll add the tag right away. :)


End file.
